From Dust
by Nuddle
Summary: Their relationship was doomed to fail, to be nothing but resentment and pure hatred. But fate can bring even the most broken souls together and make them rise from ashes. They will soon learn how, in this war, having someone to trust could change everything. A HP/SS mentor fanfiction, no slash.


Hi guys! I have been dying to write a Harry/Severus mentor fanfiction for years now and guess what? I have finally done it. Well, at least, I wrote the first chapters ahah. This fanfiction should be updated every weekend if all goes well (I am seriously doubting that but I'll do my best I promise) and considering I have a few chapters ahead, it should facilitate that. I have absolutely no beta-reader, I barely proof-read it oops and, most importantly, I am French so please pardon the mistakes you will undoubtedly fine here (whether it is spelling or awkward phrasing or anything). I'll try to edit this chapter later to get rid of them so do not hesitate to point them out to me! This first chapter is really short I apologize, but as the story advances, the length of the chapters will increase.

I hope you will enjoy it!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, the characters in this fanfiction or pretty much anything. I only own the ideas and words, unfortunately.

 **CHAPTER ONE**

 _the ones who leave us behind_

Her long hair was the color of autumnal leaves and her eyes the color of a forest on a rainy day. Everything about her was glowing: the way her lips curled into a large smile, the glint of malice in her eyes... Lily Evans was undoubtedly beautiful. She always seemed to bring joy to the people around her for she just radiated bliss in everything she did.

Severus Snape let out a deep sigh as he was looking at the old photograph in his hands. Inside it, Lily, who was only a teenager when it was taken, was waving endlessly at the camera. Though the moving picture was in black and white, the professor could remember the exact hue of each strand of her hair and he could see before his eyes the golden sparks dancing in the deep green of her eyes. The photograph had taken a yellowish tint through the years and one of the corners had been slightly torn, as if it had been handled too much.

Truth was, for Severus, this was a reminder. Everytime he stared at it, he was propelled back to their first years at Hogwarts. He could hear her laugh again, he could feel her presence by his side once more. But with every glance stolen, Lily's smile seemed to grow wider and wider, blinding him a little more each time. And everytime, he remembered she would smile no more. And it hurt. It hurt so much. Her petite pale face was a poison intoxicating his heart, ever so slowly. At first, he thought the pain he was feeling would dull over time. Severus thought he would simply grieve and mourn and then get over it.

But now, he knew. There was no getting over it. Lily had crawled under his skin and had made too much damage under it. Day after day, her absence was becoming harder to bear. Wherever he went, he was accompanied by the ghost memories of his departed friend. He had tried to hate her so hard. It worked at first. Severus had despised Lily: he had hated her for choosing Potter over him, he had hated her for not seeing he never meant those awful words he threw at her but mainly, he had hated her for dying.

The professor, who was usually always holding himself very upright, sank deeper into his chair. He brought his glass to his thin lips and drank a couple swallows of firewhiskey. He ignored the burning sensation that spread into his throat and kept looking at his one and only love. He never thought she would be leaving first. He would never have bet on him lasting longer than Lily on this Earth: she had always been the embodiment of life while he was nothing more than a walking corpse. Yet, it was he who was sitting pitifully in his room while she was buried several feets underground.

Yes, Severus had tried his best hating Lily. But he had failed miserably. He still loved her as much as he did in the past. Denying it was a waste of time, he realized. He had fallen too far for her and it was no use trying to get back on his feet.

His visage impassible, he stood up and finished the alcohol in one go. He put the photograph back in a drawer, handling it with care as if to prevent more damages from being made to it. The night was stretching into an eternity and he abandoned the idea of sleeping. How many time had it been since he last had a full night of sleep? The dark circles under his eyes seemed to prove it had been a while. In spite of his thick black robes, he was freezing.

But he did not know if it was because of the coldness of the room or because of the void inside him. He headed for his laboratory, deciding to brew a few potions before dawn. Lily had always been a dream for Severus but her absence had the bitter taste of a nightmare.

* * *

Harry jerked his eyes open and panicked, looking desesperately at his surroundings to figure out where he was. His vision was all blurry and his hands fumbled around him to find his glasses, to no success. His environment was nothing but a patchwork of dark shades, blending together in an uncomfortable way. He did not feel at ease at all. The sweat on his forehead was glistening and his eyes were mad. Harry's heart was pounding in his chest and his breath was uneven. The bedsheets covering him did not feel familiar on his skin. He put his head between his knees and focused on his breathing.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. He repeated the actions dozens and dozens of time, sitting still if not for the shivers that shook his body.

It took him some time to process what was going on. His heartbeat was still way too fast when he was struck by realization: he was not in the Gryffindor dorms (hence the unfamiliar bedsheets) but back in Dudley's second room in Little Whinging. The dark shapes he had believed to be skeletal hands at first were simply shadows of the fat boy's old broken toys cast on the wall. Summer was not done yet so he was forced to live under the same roof as Vernon and Petunia.

His nightmare was over. Relief overwhelmed him for an instant. He was in safety where Voldemort could not catch him. He had escaped the place that tormented him every single night since late June. Little Hangleton's graveyard was miles away and so was the Dark Lord. There was no way the dark wizard could hurt him now. Harry was safe.

But Cedric's empty eyes were carved onto his retina. Whether he closed his eyes or kept them open, the Boy-Who-Lived only saw death around him. He vivaciously remembered the blinding green light, the excruciating pain he was put under, the terror which flooded him and the threatening reptilian eyes. But most of all, he recalled his friend's death down to its tiniest details. It had been unexpected. One moment, they were running in the maze and a mere second later, he saw Cedric's body collapse.

It had been as fast as a blink. Harry had been so useless, so vulnerable at that moment. He watched the scene happen in disbelief, staring at Cedric who fell to the ground. The Diggory son died, as simply as that. Tears gathered in Harry's eyes and he was at the verge of crying. If it weren't for him, Cedric would still be alive and would enjoy the summer with Amos. If only he had been selfish for once and decided to grab the cup on his own, then maybe Cedric would still be here.

Harry had been Atlas ever since that dreadful night, only he felt as if he was supporting the weight of the whole universe. That heavy guilt was a burden he was too frail to bear. He had tried to silence the little voice at the back of his head who always whispered _"It's your fault"_. But no matter what he did, it only seemed to become louder. Perhaps it was his punishment.

He would have liked to shout to the world how unfair it was, that he was only fifteen and did not deserve such things happening to him. But Harry knew he deserved it, deep down. That was the downside to being a hero. He survived and watched others fall, but then had to live with the gnawing guilt. If only it could have been him at the other end of the wand that day. If only it could have been the one receiving the killing curse, so that what had been started on the 31st October 1981 could finally be ended.

Harry was still trembling and he was gasping for air. His mind would never be allowed to escape the graveyard. He was a prisoner, no more no less. Oh, how Harry wished he wasn't considered a hero.

* * *

Aaaand done! This super short chapter only introduced Severus and Harry and set the mood, I'm sorry ahah. This fiction will deal with grief and similar kinds of joyful stuff so yeah. Are those two broken enough for your taste lmao? Please, tell me what you think about it, it only takes you seconds but it really helps and motivates me! Reviews, follows and favs are greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading From Dust.

Oh and, by the way, I wish you a happy new year!

 _(If some of you are reading my fanfiction of the 100... I am so sorry I let you down, I should write the rest of it soon but technical and personal problems are behind that super super long absence. But now I'm back in business! I'll not try to excuse myself, so I'll simply apologize to you all.)_


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